


With A Little Help From My Friends

by DixieDale



Category: Hogan's Heroes
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-09-10
Updated: 2018-09-10
Packaged: 2019-07-10 16:31:24
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,408
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15953210
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DixieDale/pseuds/DixieDale
Summary: When a seriously ill LeBeau lands in a German hospital, the prognosis is not good.  Will he survive?  Maybe, with a little help from his friends.





	With A Little Help From My Friends

The men watched silently as an unconscious Louie LeBeau was loaded into the back of the departing vehicle. There wasn't much to be said, not then, though there was plenty of talk later, after that roll call speech by Kommandant Klink. Things looked pretty grim, as reflected in the faces of the men of Barracks 2. It only got worse.

Colonel Robert Hogan was frustrated. It was surely obvious to any of them the man couldn't survive. He was just too sick, too weak. Yeah, LeBeau had been a part of the team for a long time, had done his share, no question about it. Yeah, he'd be missed, sure. But, now, it was over, obvious to anyone with half a brain. They just needed to deal, and get on with it. Sure, it was hard, Hogan knew that. Hell, he knew it better than anyone, what it was like to have to accept someone's weakness, their inability to live up to expections. But, it was like they were all stuck, unable to move past the obvious; like they couldn't accept the inevitable. What would it take for them to cut their losses and move ahead? They had an operation to run, damn it!

And it wasn't even like they were left scrambling to find an explanation for Klink! He hadn't been shot, or stabbed, or gotten torn up by the wire; LeBeau had whatever they chose to call that last sickness that had come in through the gates. Simple as that. Everyone else had been mildly ill, had recovered quickly; LeBeau hadn't recovered, had gotten steadily worse to the point Wilson had just shaken his head, knowing there was nothing else he could do. That someone had managed to convince Klink to send LeBeau to the hospital was a puzzlement; that shouldn't have happened unless Hogan himself somehow inveigeled Klink into such a move. And he hadn't, knowing it would mean using that special ace in the hole he was reserving for the future, so just what the hell had happened??! HE was in command around here, damn it!!

He started to slam his hand down on the desk, but caught himself, regained control, pulled himself back from the sudden loss of temper; he needed to focus on the important things - find out who had gone behind his back with Klink - get an adequate replacement in here for LeBeau (someone small, someone who could cook, someone who could speak fluent French; he'd put in a call to London in a few days) - and get the guys back to doing the job they were supposed to be doing, damn it and stop moping around!!! {"Lucky I was able to con Klink into thinking the men might use this as an opportunity to escape, got him to put extra guards on, have someone here inside the barracks. Otherwise they'd probably all sneak out to check on LeBeau and get themselves caught!"}

 

Louie LeBeau was trying to rest, but the frequent interruptions weren't helping any. Did they not know he was a sick man? Well, at least the Colonel had realized how sick he was, had managed to trick Klink into sending him to the hospital for better care than the camp could provide. Still, some peace and quiet would have been more conducive to healing, surely. But no, between the visits by the doctor and the two nurses, his friends from the barracks kept showing up. How they managed that, he didn't know, but he really wished they'd just leave him alone, leave him in peace. He sighed as the door popped open, and a visitor sneaked in. Carter, again. This would be his third visit in as many days - well, nights really.

Carter was pacing beside his bed now, bemoaning the unfairness of it all. Well, that seemed to be the general theme all around. {"They are not worried about me, about how ill I am; no, it's about how inconvenient they are finding my absence!"} he pouted silently.

"Geez, LeBeau. You gotta focus, man! I need to get back to making bombs, not hovering over the stove! I tried to do both at the same time the other day and - well, I never had the nerve to tell the guys what made the stew taste so funny! And the paprika just didn't have the same effect on my bomb as that gunpowder would have! And those clay pellets, well, I never did find them! And the Colonel, he tried to get me inside that safe in Klink's office, to listen to Klink and Burkhaulter when the coffee pot burnt out, and that was NOT my fault! Well, kinda not my fault - I didn't know making hot chocolate in it would do that! and he just wouldn't take no for an answer. It's not like small spaces bother me, not like they do you, anyway. But, geeze, LeBeau, I just didn't fit! I was all twisted around like a pretzel, trying to wiggle my way in, when he just slammed the door shut! Well, yeah, I know Klink was coming in the door, but he almost took my fingers off, ya know??!"

LeBeau frowned in deep concern after Carter finally left. If he didn't get back soon, it seems his cooking equipment, his supplies might not survive. Truly, the men might not either, if Carter kept forgetting which ingredients went into the bombs and which went into the food!

Kinch sauntered in sometime before dawn, dressed in a doctor's uniform, carrying a clipboard. {"Is he mad??! How many black doctors are you likely to find in a German hospital??! He will be caught for certain!"} Kinch ignored all of his scolding, just got right to the point.

"Look, LeBeau. I know it's rough, but you have to try harder. We NEED you! The Colonel ordered me into that broom closet outside Klink's office the other day, and hell, man, YOU have trouble squeezing in there! No way I was gonna get more than one shoulder inside, even if it did come up higher than my waist, which it doesn't! And Newkirk is gonna drive us all around the bend; he hasn't stopped his bitching since you left! Carter's taken over the mess detail, and it's like he thinks that's the description of what he's supposed to dish up. I don't mind things that have some crunch to them, but not when I can't tell what's doing the crunching, you know?? I'm pretty sure potato soup isn't supposed to taste OR sound like that, at least yours never did. And I have no idea what's up with Olsen, but he's walking around like talking to himself with his lower lip dragging the ground."

LeBeau refrained from telling Kinch what had probably been so crunchy; it didn't seem like a good idea.

Newkirk's visit brought more complaints; well, that was only to be expected considering the Englishman took complaining to the Olympic-competition level.

"Bloody 'ell, Louie! You cant do this to me! Carter, 'e's gonna poison us all! Never thought I'd miss your French cooking. I don't know w'at to call w'at 'e's dishing up; it aint French, but the other night, I saw Felix start to take a nibble off Carter's plate, changed 'is mind once 'e got a good whiff, backed up and ran like bloody 'ell! Stayed in 'is box the rest of the night, shaking to bits, poor thing. Don't know why I'm feeling sorry for 'im, though; we 'ad to EAT the bloody stuff! And we needed to meet with that new Underground unit last night; you know, the one you're the only one w'at's met them so far, the only one they were willing to sit down with cause of them knowing your cousin? The Colonel, 'e just tells me to put on your uniform, slump my shoulders and talk with a French accent, they'll never know the difference! Bloody barmy, the whole idea, and 'im not taking No for an answer. Any idea 'ow short your pants are on me?? Or the other parts either? 'Ad bare pieces of me sticking out everywhere, and a bloody cold night for it too! Come on, Louie!!"

LeBeau entertained himself for some time, picturing that scene. He'd started to drift off to sleep, and would wake himself up chuckling again.

Even Olsen snuck in, with some ridiculous complaint that, by LeBeau's mere absence from the barracks, he was being forced to forego his trips outside the wire which was ruining everything.

"I'm not used to it, LeBeau! I have a life out there, ya know??! Responsibilities, obligations. What about Gerta? What about Ingrid, Elsa, Clara? Think about them. I can tell you I'M thinking about them! You can't do this to me! I mean, you're a Frenchman! You understand these things, right?"

{"He has never mentioned any of those names before. Well, that explains what our Olsen is up to when he is being our 'outside man', and why he never complains about it,"} realizing a long-standing question had just been answered.

The visit was one of the shorter ones, the handsome young man admitting he was going to try and sneak in a visit with Liesbeth on the way back to camp. {"Gerta, Ingrid, Elsa, Clara, Liesbeth - no wonder he is so thin!"} chuckling to himself, more than a little bit envious. {"Perhaps, when I am well, he will introduce me. I wonder if there is a short one."}. 

He awoke to the sound of the door, once more, and the ludicrous sight of Schultz tiptoeing across the worn tile floor.

"LeBeau? Cockroach? Are you awake?"

LeBeau sighed, "oui, I am awake, Schultz."

The pleading started immediately. "LeBeau, you must get well, quickly! How are the boys supposed to bribe me to give them information without your apfel strudel? Carter, he tries, but mein Gott! I have lost enough teeth; I cannot afford to lose any more! And if I give them the information without the bribe, they will know. That I know, I mean. Well, you know what I mean, yes??! So, please, Cockroach, get well, come back! Even I cannot 'not see' Sergeant Kinchloe hiding in places with most of his body hanging out! It was hard enough to overlook the Englander dressed in your uniform; I am sure he must have caught a cold; one should not have that much bare skin in the winter time! It cannot be healthy! Please, Cockroach! I need to get back to knowing nothing, seeing nothing before I end up on the Russian Front! It has only been luck that Major Hockstetter hasn't shown up during some of their monkey business! I thought by getting you transferred in here I was helping, but you have to do your part!"

LeBeau lay there awhile, thinking about the new insights he'd gotten from that visit, the new questions that now came to mind. Knowing Schultz had been the one who'd arranged for him to go to the hospital, not the Colonel, was an eye-opener. He found himself chuckling again, over Carter's cooking, over the imagined sight of Newkirk, bare midriff and pants up to his knees most probably. 

The next time the doctor opened the door, it was to the welcome, but unexpected sight of a fully-conscious LeBeau sitting up in bed.

"You are looking much better; I think it is time you returned to camp and leave this bed to someone who needs it more. I will arrange it."

He was more than a little surprised at the eager look and the rapid, "oui, it is time; I need to get back to my friends."

Schultz had come to retrieve him and then, he was back, he had survived, {"with a little help from my friends."} When he exited the car, LeBeau was greeted by shouts, and warm handshakes, and other evidence of how much he'd been missed.

Somehow, the welcome from Colonel Hogan, all smiles and confident warm words, didn't affect him nearly so much as it might have before his little sojourn in the hospital. The others though, Newkirk, Carter, Kinch, Olsen, their enthusiastic response he appreciated very much. Though he scolded them, later, once the Colonel had gone to play chess with the Kommandant.

"It is not that I am not grateful; I am. But it was far too risky to come to visit me, especially for you, Kinch."

That got him some very odd looks, almost as if in apology, and then a reluctant and chagrined Newkirk told him, "we COULDN'T come, Louie. We were on lockdown, with the guard being doubled and all, even a guard inside the barracks all the time; seems ole Klink thought we might use the distraction of your being gone to try an escape. I'm sorry, we wanted to . . ."

And LeBeau looked around at them, all his friends, and protested, "but I remember! You DID come, each of you! Every night! Without your visits I do not think I would have survived; you let me know you needed me here." And he told them, in great detail of their visits, the things they'd told him, only to see total incomprehension in their faces. Well, even he had to admit much of what he related made little sense now even to himself, so perhaps he HAD imagined it all. 

No, not all of it. When Schultz had come to escort him back to camp, in the car, LeBeau had thanked the guard for arranging for him to go to the hospital. Schultz had seemed alarmed, even frightened.

"Please, you must tell no one, Cockroach! I would be in very much trouble! The Kommandant thinks General Burkhaulter ordered it; the General thinks the Kommandant did! You must not tell, please??!"

In looking back, it had been a very puzzling matter, all of it. The only thing he knew for sure was real? He had friends, men who cared about him. And whether they had come in person to stand by his bedside, they had still been with him, had helped him get well again; he had no doubt of that. Even Schultz; surprisingly, Schultz most of all. Friends were important, even more so in the circumstances in which they'd found themselves.

{"And it is important to know just who those friends really are,"} giving a thoughtful look at the closed door to Hogan's quarters. He would remember that, always.


End file.
